


falling from the doves to the dark of the crow.

by faucer



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Depression, Happy Ending, Other, Pre-Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 13:32:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16893549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faucer/pseuds/faucer





	falling from the doves to the dark of the crow.

**1\. january – 2037  
** new year’s eve was just few days ago. you spent a nice evening with some close friends, ate, laughed, drank. but it turned out to be a temporary placebo, as the dread of living has its clutches around your heart again. it’s cold outside and the only thing you’d like to do is sleep forever in the warm cocoon of your white soft duvet. even scrolling endlessly on your phone is useless, everyone is with their relatives and they really don’t have time to think about you. you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. it has come to this then, huh. you roll over the other side of the bed. you’ve decided. you could die and nothing would change.

**2\. february – 2037  
** you’ve been promoted at work. your colleagues organized a small party during the lunch break. you still felt nothing. rather, you got the urge to throw up. someone else could use that money. someone else with a family, with hopes, dreams, desires. not someone like you for sure. you feel guilty for taking up space, in this economy, in this world. you should enjoy your life and yet. yet there’s something at the back of your mind, gnawing, chewing your brain with steely fangs, unceasing, unrelenting.  
when you get home you toss your grey bag onto the couch and let yourself fall on the mattress. you silently cry for an hour or so. after your red eyes decide to take a rest you lift your phone and check for messages. none. except an e-mail. weird advertisement about purchasing a house. you guess that since everything is connected lots of estate agencies already know about your new salary.  
you have enough to buy a modest place in the outskirts of detroit.  
or enough to buy an android, which is as pricey as that. an android? you stop mid-thinking. where did that come from? you have strange ideas for a person that barely wants to live.

**3\. march – 2037  
** “would you like to give it a name?”  
“no” you nervously blurt out, a bit uncomfortable. give  _it_ a name? you’re not its parent, it’s not your duty to give  _it_ a name. and were you to give  _it_ a name, would  _it_ become your responsibility then? you sign some papers about a division into instalments. there they go, your savings. you shrug it off, after all long-term plans were never your thing. you always had the sensation that you weren’t going to live past your twenty but here you are.  
here you are.  
outside of a shop, wind howling, leaves moving along the sidewalk, you and between your arms a brown bag of groceries with red apples sticking out on top, your android beside with its fingers clasped behind its back. a sepia-toned polaroid of utter confusion and a simply-led life.  
you didn’t have a clue about how or why everything was going this way.

**4\. april – 2037**  
a caretaker model. you’ve found that  _it_ is rather handy.  _it_ follows your orders but  _it_ is also independent enough to cook you a meal without specifying exactly what you would like to eat. which is nice, you guess. choosing every day was starting to be very miserable.  _it_ does the shopping too, as  _it_ has a huge amount of free time when you’re away. ( _it_ cleans during the night). it’s to make sure you have a healthy diet,  _it_ says. fair enough. you don’t actually mind  _it_ taking control of your daily menial tasks. it’s easier both for you and for  _it_.  
usually when you get back from your job you’re already too tired to read or watch some television. and if you had the energy, you think you wouldn’t want to anyway. books are full of ads nowadays and reading one is a hassle. the tv always has bad news and you’re not going to demoralize yourself more. also would  _it_ ‘scold’ you? reminding you that staring so much at a monitor will reduce your eyesight? you bet  _it_ would say these kinds of things for your own benefit. but still, being a ‘good’ person is hard.  
a warm hearty dinner. you’re glad. you generally don’t feel like eating after such a long day but gulping down the whole thing it’s rather easy.  
 _it_ seems…. ‘satisfied’ while watching you. probably  _its_ mimicking program.  
perhaps looking at  _its_ smile, even if fake, might make you at ease.

**5\. may – 2037  
** the third month living with  _it_. you only hear  _its_ voice when  _it_ needs directions to abide by. any other dialogue would be unnecessary. of course you’re gonna grow crazy if this keeps up. one thing is living alone, but another is living with someone and not talking to  _him– him?_  what? don’t tell me you’re considering  _it_ as a person? freak.  
you spent two or three nights with the sheets hiding your body, the blue light of your phone illuminating your little breathing space, searching on blogs about androids and humans relationships. maybe it’ll help you make small talk.  
the lone comments you find, though, are about  _that kind of bond_. should it disgust you? mhh. you close your lids and try to imagine how something like this would play out. it wouldn’t. there’s a reason why you’re single.  
but not desperate.

**6\. june – 2037  
** you’re fed up. you don’t care about what others will think at this point. you  _need_ to talk with– with–  _him_. you’ve thought this.  _he_ ’sdefinitely a machine. but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be gentle to him. so screw it. you’re going to have conversations. whether he likes it or not.  
“hey– um, you don’t have a name, don’t you?”  
“correct.”  
“would you– would you like one?”  
“i see no need to it. but if you want i could search for the most popular names of the past year. in the u.s the first then results are–”  
“no no– it’s– okay, really. it’s fine like this.”  
what did you expect? for him to act like a human all of a sudden? to give himself a name in his own volition? to care for you because he wants to and not because he’s programmed to?  _ **what?**_ where did this thought come from? you don’t need pity from an android.

**7\. july – 2037  
** it’s scorching. it’s the heat of the summer. work is hardly bearable. you have to admit, speaking to him it’s a lot less difficult. you’ve been together for five months now. he’s an okay guy. yeah, he won’t say much unless you directly ask him but he’s okay. he also started to take more liberties with you. like reprimanding you if you’re not sleeping by 10AM. or inciting you about going out with people. is he being friendly? you doubt it. but you let him do his things. it’s nice. it’s nice like this. it’s nice to pretend to have someone to care for you. it’s fine, you keep saying that to yourself. it’s fine to dream once in a while. it’s fine.  
“aren’t you bothered by how hot it is? like, you don’t overheat or something?”  
“my model was built with better tolerance to higher and lower temperatures than humans.”  
“mhh. right.” you ponder for some seconds “new clothes!”  
the perplexed look on his face makes you laugh. which is…. which is….? what it is? is it odd? is it odd for you to feel…. happy? is it odd for you to feel  _at all?_  
when was the last time you smiled?  
the trip to the nearest shopping mall is quiet but you’re giddy with excitement. you need something new to wear, he does too. you’re sick of seeing him in the same old outfit. it’s stiff and ugly.  
he’s a lot more handsome with a white button-down shirt and black trousers. not that he isn’t normally gorgeous but– normally? you’re lost in these thoughts as you’re swiping your card in the meantime. he  _is_ beautiful. was he always so beautiful? you’re being childish.

**8\. august – 2037  
** you sigh. how many years have passed since you had a day off? you lost count. you’d like to see the ocean. you’d like to see the countryside. you’d like to be up in the mountains with your friends and a white cup of hot chocolate in your palms. summer is ending. you don’t even have time to feel heavy-hearted about it.  
in the weekend you ask him to buy you a bottle of beer. he curls his mouth in disapproval but does as told.  
you close the french door that overlooks the fuming city above your tiny balcony. drinking in the complete quiet of your little world. is this the same as a vacation?  
around midnight he brings you a blanket and places it around your shoulders. you turn and look up to his tall figure. tired eyes with dark circles beneath, a cirrusly smile.  
“it’s very late.”  
“yeah.”  
“it would be ideal to go to bed as soon as possible.”  
“…. yeah.”  
silence.  
“is something on your mind, [name]?”  
“i guess.”  
“would you like to share it with me?”  
you frown. it’s not as if you have something to lose, right?  
“sit down.”  
“i can stand, androids don’t–”  
“sit down, i said.”  
he’s almost comical, so rigid in an unadorned wooden chair. he seems uneasy, a student taking an exam he didn’t study for.  
“do you know the meaning of the expression ‘being a zero’?”  
he nods “it is a metaphor to imply that someone’s value is nothing.”  
“exactly.”  
silence again.  
“is it how you feel, [name]?”  
your chest heave with exasperation “i don’t see how i can be something else.”  
he presses his lips, thinking. you shake your head. you’re about to go and bury yourself in your room “in the binary code….” he starts, hesitant “there are zeros and ones. but they’re both essential. together they can convey anything. were the former or the latter cease to exists the message would be lost. ”  
you pause, knuckles lingering on the frame of the window. your vision cast on the floor and your feet but you’re slightly smiling “then you’re my one?”

**9\. september – 2037  
** seven. seven months.  
seven months since you said goodbye to your finances.  
“blah blah blah, robot here robot there, you’re always mentioning it!”  
“come on, that’s not true.” you give hint of a half laugh.  
“but it is! what, someone’s got a little crush on their babysitter?”  
“he’s not my babysitter–”  
 _“he?”_  
seven months since you said ‘hello’ to a big, sturdy android.  
seven months and you still don’t regret that.  
“do you need anything?”  
“no, thank you. i’m good.” yawning you stretch your arms. gosh, you’re really tired. you close your eyes, ready to rest.  
you don’t hear him lowering over your forehead and laying a soft kiss.  
“goodnight, then, [name].”  
you freeze until he turns out the light and closes your door. did he– did he just–?  
sleeping will be a problem if you don’t stop blushing.   
seven. seven months into this messy cohabitation.

**10\. october – 2037  
** you feel like you’re getting the hang of living, proper living. it’s not a chore anymore to get out of bed, to shower, to watch the red sunset while working through the last hours of your shift. even going to the supermarket it’s pleasant. you like to pick what to eat. yes, you don’t need to, he says, he’s perfectly capable of memorizing a list, if you were so compliant in doing one in the first place.  
you’re not going to tell him that it’s a lot more fun this way.  
‘happy’ would be the best term to describe you these days. he noticed too.  
you never addressed what happened last month. but there was no need to. instead, you both started to hold hands without a spoken word. while you’re watching your favourites sitcoms. while you’re reading a paper book. while strolling in the park nearby.  
you might ask him to teach you how to cook. it will certainly be a disaster but you two would have a good laugh about it.

**11\. november – 2037  
** you close the car’s door with enough force to cause a dull thud. so loud it actually disturbs your already awful mood and makes you close your eyes in distress “breathe, [name]” you shift in your seat but do as you’re told nevertheless. you’re trembling, rage seeping through your clenched fists resting on your knees “[name], your stress levels—” crisp air escapes from your lungs in a big white puff, it’s the end of november after all  _“i know”_  you shut him up but suddenly regret it “i’m sorry– i didn’t mean to– i–” you inhale once more and bite your lower lip.  _no no no please no_  “fuck–” you manage to grit before placing your head on your legs, covering your face with weary hands. you’re crying again. it’s starting to become a habit: him adamant on getting you from work, you crying for a solid ten or fifteen minutes, him hugging you because ‘although crying is a valid form of venting when confronting stress, contact may help you relax, [name]’ and then going home. not driving is your favourite bit, though, as it would give you anxiety.  
weren’t you just getting better? where did you progress go?  
you beg him to sleep with you. he and his tender smile don’t complain.  
he holds you tightly the whole night.

**12\. december – 2037  
** it’s snowing. the loneliness and the wish to kill yourself of last year are nothing but a long gone bitter taste in your mouth.  
now you’re two in this cosy and warm apartment. he’s helping you decorating for the holidays.  
“i’m not going to be like them.” you say out of the blue.  
“them?”  
“my family.” you firmly state, it’s a promise.  
he can’t help but halt and hug you from behind “it’s okay, love. it’s okay.”  
you share a sweet kiss while the fireplace softly crackle.  
apparently, recovery is not linear.

 

**23\. november 12th – 2038**

he is alive.


End file.
